Now:
1 AM - A deserted beach
Him: Why is it so hard to just have another hand to hold, someone to walk barefoot with on the beach, with the moon shining down on us? Why does life have to be so complicated?
Me: Maybe, some things in life are worth the wait. And some of us are made of stronger stock, I tell myself. We have been given this life, for we are capable of living it.
Him: And who does the giving? God?
Me: If you choose to label it so, yeah! Or, if you want me to feel grateful for the mighty grand scheme of things that happened across time and space, in a precise sequence, to give birth to this moment, this 'coincidence', if we may call it, of the palm of your left hand, just a little bit sweaty, fitting perfectly within the palm of my right hand. as if they were meant to belong; I most certainly am. I am perfectly satisfied to exist, and experience this moment.
Him: That's the first time I've felt thankful for having sweaty palms.
Yesterday:
6 PM: An online chat room:
Sweatypalms: And, did it make all the difference? :D
Theroadnottaken: Ha ha! Well played! Yes, to me it has; made all the difference. :)
Sweatypalms: Frost seems a bit depressing, doesn't he? Or rather, he seems to have been depressed, most of the time.
Theroadnottaken: Probably why his writing is so achingly beautiful.
Sweatypalms: So, a happy, content human being can't write good prose or poetry? Most of the literary-endowed seem to have been a sad lot!
Theroadnottaken: Anybody can write, I guess. But the words born out of loss, of misery, of hurt, of defeat, they seem to resonate with the rest of us mankind, who spend the better part of our lives learning to deal with the very same emotions. Maybe it's like an unknown hand from the past reaching out to you, and saying, "I understand."
...................................................................
Sweatypalms: That's quite the conversation for an online chat room with naked people banners blinking on both sides. ;) People surprise you when you least expect them to, eh!
Theroadnottaken: I never had a problem with surprises; or with naked. :P
Two hours from now:
On his bike
Him: You sure about this? I might turn out to be a serial rapist killer who freezes your body parts and has them for breakfast.
Me: That would make for an entertaining newspaper article. Turn right at the next junction.
Him: I wish I could freeze this one fleeting moment; this rush of adrenaline and other such things I am feeling just by the proximity of your body to mine; the nip in the night air, the reassuring warmth of your soft head of hair that moves ever so slightly to meet mine, every time I tilt my head back. I'm scared to blink; I might wake up and find it's all a dream.
Me: There, there, Mr. Eloquent. The moment can last as long as you and I want it to. It can lead to other moments, just as beautiful. Or more. We're just getting started! Now, turn your attention to the road, will you?
The head tilts again, and the other moves, ever so lightly, to meet it.
6 hours from now:
On my bed
As the first slivers of sunlight escape the thick curtains, and sleep grudgingly withdraws, a long, slender hand extends to the right side of the bed, and as realization slowly dawns, there's nothing there except the faint, yet still intoxicating smell, the only proof of having lain right next to him, right on that bed.
The mobile phone's notification light blinks:
"I happened to take the road that everyone else takes. I am sorry. "
A wife and a child with a toothless smile contently from the profile picture.
1 AM - A deserted beach
Him: Why is it so hard to just have another hand to hold, someone to walk barefoot with on the beach, with the moon shining down on us? Why does life have to be so complicated?
Me: Maybe, some things in life are worth the wait. And some of us are made of stronger stock, I tell myself. We have been given this life, for we are capable of living it.
Him: And who does the giving? God?
Me: If you choose to label it so, yeah! Or, if you want me to feel grateful for the mighty grand scheme of things that happened across time and space, in a precise sequence, to give birth to this moment, this 'coincidence', if we may call it, of the palm of your left hand, just a little bit sweaty, fitting perfectly within the palm of my right hand. as if they were meant to belong; I most certainly am. I am perfectly satisfied to exist, and experience this moment.
Him: That's the first time I've felt thankful for having sweaty palms.
Yesterday:
6 PM: An online chat room:
Sweatypalms: And, did it make all the difference? :D
Theroadnottaken: Ha ha! Well played! Yes, to me it has; made all the difference. :)
Sweatypalms: Frost seems a bit depressing, doesn't he? Or rather, he seems to have been depressed, most of the time.
Theroadnottaken: Probably why his writing is so achingly beautiful.
Sweatypalms: So, a happy, content human being can't write good prose or poetry? Most of the literary-endowed seem to have been a sad lot!
Theroadnottaken: Anybody can write, I guess. But the words born out of loss, of misery, of hurt, of defeat, they seem to resonate with the rest of us mankind, who spend the better part of our lives learning to deal with the very same emotions. Maybe it's like an unknown hand from the past reaching out to you, and saying, "I understand."
...................................................................
Sweatypalms: That's quite the conversation for an online chat room with naked people banners blinking on both sides. ;) People surprise you when you least expect them to, eh!
Theroadnottaken: I never had a problem with surprises; or with naked. :P
Two hours from now:
On his bike
Him: You sure about this? I might turn out to be a serial rapist killer who freezes your body parts and has them for breakfast.
Me: That would make for an entertaining newspaper article. Turn right at the next junction.
Him: I wish I could freeze this one fleeting moment; this rush of adrenaline and other such things I am feeling just by the proximity of your body to mine; the nip in the night air, the reassuring warmth of your soft head of hair that moves ever so slightly to meet mine, every time I tilt my head back. I'm scared to blink; I might wake up and find it's all a dream.
Me: There, there, Mr. Eloquent. The moment can last as long as you and I want it to. It can lead to other moments, just as beautiful. Or more. We're just getting started! Now, turn your attention to the road, will you?
The head tilts again, and the other moves, ever so lightly, to meet it.
6 hours from now:
On my bed
As the first slivers of sunlight escape the thick curtains, and sleep grudgingly withdraws, a long, slender hand extends to the right side of the bed, and as realization slowly dawns, there's nothing there except the faint, yet still intoxicating smell, the only proof of having lain right next to him, right on that bed.
The mobile phone's notification light blinks:
"I happened to take the road that everyone else takes. I am sorry. "
A wife and a child with a toothless smile contently from the profile picture.
